The Warden
by Jonesy E
Summary: 'You think you're so much better than us, don'cha.' More Raph-Leo interaction, this time from Leo's perspective.  Rated for language.


A/N: It was originally supposed to be a songfic, but it seemed to stand pretty well on it's own, so I left it out. It kind of came naturally, so I guess the recent posting has been helping me loosen up. Tell me if you catch anything that needs fixing, and whether you like it. Thanks.

* * *

Rain.

Leonardo was no stranger to rain. In Costa Rica, rain was the norm; at least four days a week it had fallen through the thick canopy of the trees, big, fat, warm droplets giving life to every part of the jungle, from towering canopy to vibrant forest floor. Even when the sky was clear the air had been full of moisture, heavy—almost oppressively so—and he had ignored it as any true ninja would, focused on his objective of becoming a better leader, viewing it as no real obstacle at all, only a minor inconvenience.

Rain in New York City was different. Here, the entire atmosphere changed, even during the warmer months of the summer and fall. The usual warm, kissing humidity was sucked from the air, replaced by an unnatural chill; the droplets, when they fell, were not large and warm but small, icy, and piercing. He secretly hated the rain in New York. But he ignored it, just as he had ignored it in Costa Rica, just as he had ignored many things over the course of his short life, in lee of honor and of duty. Honor and duty were why he was on top of an abandoned building now, rapidly blinking the falling water from his eyes, sweeping the surrounding area with his gaze.

Watching. Searching.

_"You think you're so much better than us, don'cha? " Raphael's normally gravelly voice was raised. "Always makin' the better decisions, always knowing best, huh?"_

_ He stood his ground only feet from his brother in the dojo, arms at rest on his chest, but eyes every wary. "I never said that, Raph," he replied in tired voice. So tired of the arguing. "But I _am_ the leader of this team. It's my job to keep us all safe."_

_ "'Keep us safe'? By sitting back and watching while our enemies loot and plunder? By letting them get away?" The red bandaned turtle took a step toward him, expansive chest heaving, steam practically billowing from his ears. Raphael had always been larger than him, ever since puberty. Slower, though, as well. "…So what, they can have more time to formulate another attack? Wipe us out for good? Tell me how _that_ works, Fearless." _

He leapt from his rooftop to the next, heading steadily southward. The cold night air coupled with the rain made his hands and feet numb, and made his snout sting; years of meditation made it easy not to notice. The cloudy sky above was growing darker; the last vestiges of sunlight were undoubtedly disappearing above them. It would make it harder to see, impeding his search.

_"What did you want me to do?" He was getting frustrated now, his stance becoming more aggravated, edgy. "Even as skilled as we are, there were hundreds of them to us four. The odds were against us, Raph, you know that! It was better to fall back and formulate a plan. Despite your unfailing LACK of support, I have never steered us wrong."_

_ "Yeah, and never had the balls to do what needs to be done. To finish it." Raphael's amber eyes smoldered coldly, his mouth a jagged sneer. "Why is that, Leo? Why are you always running away?"_

Another leap across the yawning gap of an alley, and something caught his eye. Two shaggy young men huddled near the dumpster; one was hissing quietly into a cell phone while trying halfheartedly to pull his comrade up, the latter struggling to rise on shaky legs. The cell-phone boy was beginning to sport a brilliantly purple black eye.

He was on the right track. He continued moving south, nimble feet barely touching the grit of the wet rooftops.

_"I resent that." His voice was level, and as cold as the cut steel of his katana. He knew that Raph heard the edge and reveled in it, but he could no longer keep it from his tone. _

_ " Oh, poor baby," Raph cooed in disgust. "It's about time someone took action. Made a stand." He waited for Leo's reaction. The sneer hadn't left his face, only grown larger, more filled with anger. When Leonardo said nothing, it suddenly disappeared, replaced with a blackened rage. _

"_You, you're no leader," he seethed, tearing a trench coat from the rack. "You're just a coward."_

_ "A fuckin' coward."_

He took a moment to get a leg up on a small radio tower on the corner of Ninth and Vineyard, eyes still searching. April's apartment wasn't far from here. The rain continued to fall, hitting him like so many frozen needles, running into his eyes; he ignored it. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it: a flicker of movement in the shadows of the warehouse across the street. He leapt down.

_"It's our duty to protect this city, Raphael, just as it's mine to protect the safety of our family. And we can't do either if we're all DEAD!"_

_ "Go to hell, Leo. This family doesn't need your 'protection'. And I sure as hell don't." Raph swept out the door of the lair, leaving him standing there alone, foolish. Forgotten. _

_ "It's my job," he repeated, to no one. _

He landed hard on the rain-slicked asphalt of the alley, just in time to see another desperate scramble of movement behind a large dumpster. There was a sliding sound, a thump, a mumble. He watched as a green, two-toed foot was pulled out of view, slowly, clumsily.

His younger brother was slumped behind the dumpster, head sagging onto his chest. Several fresh, dark green bruises littered his shoulders and upper arms; a few small cuts had appeared on his legs and face as well. Beneath his badly scrapped knuckles, his fingers clutched a small glass bottle, empty except for a thin layer of amber liquid. The label had been ripped off, but the smell that wafted from him left very little doubt as to what it was. Without a word, Leonardo grasped Raphael's wrist and slung his arm over his shoulder.

"Wha'tha fuck d'yyou wann?" his brother murmured, words barely more than a slur. His lower lip was split, probably the result of a punch from a gangster once Raphael had imbibed too much to dodge effectively. A deep cut above his right eye oozed crimson slowly, mixing with the falling rain, making his face look even more grotesque.

Leo said nothing, hoisting his brother up with a grunt. Raphael's legs could barely support his own weight.

"Go'way. We don' needya. I don' needya," Raph slurred, jerking away from Leo's grasp; he lost his balance and fell to his knees, swearing in pain. Leo bent down to help him again, still silent.

This time Raphael did not resist, but helped even less; it seemed his strength was sapped. "Pussy," he mumbled simply into Leo's shoulder. "Someone hadda do it." Then his head lolled back, and he began to snore.

For a fleeting instant, Leonardo considered shaking Raphael awake to ask him what he had done that was so important. Beat up a few street thugs? Get his head cut open? Drink a fifth of whiskey? But as quick as it had come, the urge had gone. He would get Raphael to the manhole down the street, then back home and into bed. He would make sure that his father knew his younger brother was safe, and not necessarily that he had drunk enough to poison a small pond of fish. He might even make sure there was a glass of water and two aspirin by Raphael's bed when he woke up.

Because like it or not, he was Raphael's guardian. His warden. His big brother.

And it was his job.


End file.
